I tried and therefore no one should criticize me.
This is what he remembered, really, at the end of it all. Not her at his side, small hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, laughing charmingly and cataloging a million (a million and one, a million and two) ways to kill everyone in the building and disappear in two minutes tops.
Not face to face, her tangled red hair falling around him as she moved, lips shaping filthy-sweet promises and triumph in her sea green eyes.
Not her back as as she walked away again (and again and again), melting away into the trees, into the city, into the crush and surge of humanity where even he could not find her unless she wanted to be found.
This is how he remembered her, at the end, the subtle press of her shoulder against his, her heel an inch away from his boot, any contact so light as to be unfelt except for that small electric response of having another person so close.
This is how he remembered them.
As they should be.
This post got so much better.